Pandora's Box
by alexcabotfan
Summary: In her second identity with the Witness Protection Program, Alex misses everything and everyone in her former life. Written from Alex's point of view. I'm not good at summaries, but please read and review!


_*Thanks for reading! This is just a one-shot that popped into my head as I was playing with my Pandora bracelet. I hope you enjoy! I don't own SVU, sadly!*_

* * *

My mom gave me the bracelet at my law school graduation party. I immediately adored it! It looked like a perfect, shiny, silver rope, and I loved the way it contrasted with the perfect golden clasp. My aunt, always looking to be the center of attention, immediately criticised the gift.

"You're not going to give her one full of charms?" Aunt Cici laughed.

"What would be the fun in that?" My mom spit, then turning to me, "This bracelet's you. It's a beautiful, blank canvas. I want you to fill this bracelet with all the memories you have as an important, successful lawyer. And to start you off…"

She handed me a small, blue bag with the tell-tale "Pandora" logo. I pulled the tiny charm out of the bag, instantly loving it as much as I loved the bracelet itself. Hanging from a golden sphere were the scales of justice, appropriate for my future career and my astrological sign (Libra). Both the sphere and the scales had tiny diamonds embedded in them, giving the charm a singular shine.

"I absolutely love it, mom!" I exclaimed, "I'm never taking it off!" And I absolutely meant it.

* * *

Less than ten years later, I was dead. Not literally, of course; but figuratively. My shoulder still healing, I was given half an hour to pack the necessities and leave Alexandra Cabot behind. Emily, my new persona, grew up in Tulsa, majored in economic science, and worked as an attorney for an insurance company. She moved to Wisconsin and got to live and work in a lovely suburban neighborhood with a perfect, six-digit salary. In other words, the opposite of everything _Alex_ stood for. I majored in English, lived for the daily sights, sounds, and smells of the city, and worked for a pittance because it meant I could help people with my JD. I wanted to cry, but realized that, once I began, I'd never be able to get everything packed on time.

Within fifteen minutes, I was ready to leave. I had my favorite clothes, make-up, shoes, and books all crammed into two suitcases. As I was throwing on my jacket, my eyes fell to my Pandora bracelet. It was nearly full now. I had liked the fact that all the beads were gifts, but now it just made too many memories flood back. About to have a panic attack, I pulled the bracelet off and hid it in my sock drawer – my old sock drawer – and left my apartment to embark on my new "life," if you could call it that.

I felt the black SUV pull out of the driveway, and my eyes remained fixated on my old apartment. I was determined to keep eye contact with it for as long as possible. Suddenly, I realized I was making a horrible mistake.

"We have to go back!" I exclaimed, "I forgot something really important."

"Damn, you're high maintenance," some Federal Marshall yelled at me.

"Please," I began to cry, slightly exaggerating my emotions, "Do you have any idea what I'm going through? This bracelet is really important to me. Please, we have to go back!"

"Alright, alright," he sounded scared, "I'll turn around; just please don't cry."

Alexandra Cabot _always_ wins.

I made record time, quickly taking the bracelet from the sock drawer and making sure it clasped securely around my wrist before returning to the SUV. Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped into my head, and I once again began to cry.

"Shh, shh; it's ok," He tried to console me, "_Please_ don't cry, miss."

"I'm sorry; I don't mean to be such a mess!" I sobbed, "It's just…It's terrifying; having everyone think you're dead! What if I never come back, and no one ever knows I'm still alive?"

"Please!" He practically begged me, trying to sound consoling, "Is there anything I can do to help you stop crying?"

"Well, maybe if I could tell someone about this," I suggested.

"I really can't do that," he apologized, "We'd be breaking about fifty WPP rules…"

"Please, let me just tell my detectives, Benson and Stabler," I begged, "They won't tell anyone! I trust them with my life."

With a little more crying and several frantic phone-calls later, my request was accepted. Again, Alexandra Cabot _always _wins. I thought about telling my mother, but I didn't want to upset her more than I already had. Of course, now I regret not saying goodbye more than anything. I still can't handle the fact that my mother died thinking I had been killed.

* * *

Life as Emily sucked. Usually, I can come up with a euphemism for anything, but sucked doesn't even come close to the Emily experience. The only thing that sustained me was (as sad as it seems) my bracelet. I looked at the adorable teddy bear charm, and remembered when Elliot gave it to me after a bad fight over a warrant. I looked at the teal glass charm and remembered the surprise birthday party Olivia threw me. I looked at the sterling silver flower and remembered Munch and I talking and laughing at the Christmas party. I looked at the Libra charm and cried, realizing I would never be able to see my mom again. When it got quiet at nice, the loneliness was particularly hard to bear. I kept expecting to hear someone yelling in Spanish outside of my window, or feel the subway rumbling underneath me as it rolled by. Most nights, all I could do to get by was hum the "Mister Softie" song as I ran my fingers over the charms, imagining I was in New York.

* * *

Finally, they arrested Liam Conners. I couldn't let Cragen or the Marshals say no; I had to go back. I wasn't back, though. I was in court every second of that trial; and for every second of it, I wanted to jump up, push Casey Novak aside, and prosecute the bastard myself. Whenever Lionel Granger made an objection, I longed to scream out a perfectly eloquent response. I had to contain myself several times from jumping up during cross examination to nail the witness to the wall. I had a closing statement in my head; one that would nullify any juror's reasonable doubts. I hated that she was doing _my_ job; I hated that _my _detectives thought she was doing it well.

I thought going back would help me cope. Instead, it just poured salt on the wound. For some reason, I thought my life in New York would somehow be put on pause. Instead, I only saw time I had lost for good. Every second that I wasn't the ADA left me panicked. So, when the US Marshals told me I had to assume a new identity (again), it was more than I could bear. Not knowing what else to do, I used the last two hours of my freedom to visit my mother's grave. Without even registering what I was doing, I sat down on the ground and started talking to her. I told her how afraid I was. I told her how lonely I was. I was just about to tell her how much I hated Casey Novak when Casey herself showed up.

"I was hoping I'd find you here," She began.

"Why?"

"I," she slowly began, "wanted to apologize to you before you left."

I stood there dumbfounded for a full minute, unsure of what to say.

"Why?" I finally mustered.

"I wasn't exactly welcoming…"

"Honestly, I'm the one who should apologize," I assured, "The whole 'are you ready?' comment: not exactly my shining moment."

"Can't say I'd be any better if I were in your shoes," she looked away, "Actually, I'd be worse."

She and I talked for a while. We actually, _genuinely_ talked; almost like friends. We shared our favorite stories from the 1-6, talked about our life experiences, and realized we had a lot more in common than we thought. I _almost_ forgot that my life was going to end in exactly one hour and twenty-five minutes.

"I should probably get going; my flight takes off soon. Would you hold onto this until I get back?" I asked, putting my Pandora bracelet on her wrist, "It just…has too many memories that I can't deal with right now."

"Of course," she was shocked, but touched, "I'll take good care of it."

And I knew she would. Even though I'm never touchy-feely, I gave Casey a hug before the black SUV came and whisked me away to end up God knows where.

* * *

It's been six months and I'm still in Los Angeles. _Alex _grew up near Boston and moved to New York City immediately after college. As far as I'm concerned, everything important occurs between these two, wonderful East Coast cities. I've especially never had any desire to go to California. The land that values celebrity, fake boobs, and parties more than education and brains never interested me. My new name is Chelsea Dolan, and I work for some boring real estate company. It's obvious that I don't fit in. My preppy argyle sweaters, khaki pants and Calvin Klein suits look out of place. My glasses, my favorite signature item, just look dorky here. I knew there would be a problem when my co-worker kindly asked why I didn't wear contacts.

Sometimes, when I really miss New York, I wish I had the bracelet with me. I never regret leaving it with Casey, though. It's better this way, not always having constant reminders. It lets me have some _semblance_ of a life here. Besides, I belong back in New York. There's some comfort knowing that the bracelet and memories will be right there waiting for me in their true home. For now, they belong to Casey, and I know she'll do them justice.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading! Please, consider taking the time to leave a comment/review, no matter what you thought about the story :D  
_


End file.
